Steam
by princessamerigo
Summary: Her hand was already on the door handle when something happened that made her froze in place. "Lucy…" Lucy wants nothing more just a relaxing shower before all the hot water is gone, but a single word changes everything.
1. Chapter 1

Steam

Chapter 1

Lucy walked silently and slowly in the bunker careful not to step too loudly and rouse her sleeping "flatmates". There were some perks to spending the night awake and staring at the ceiling, just waiting for the first rays of the pale sun to lurk in on the tiny windows and give her a pitiful excuse to get up. At least she didn't have to worry about whether she would have hot water or if it would already be gone, as was the case quite often. Today, she would be the first, and at least she would have five minutes, to lose herself in the sensation of the hot water caressing her without her constant worries and doubts.

However, as she entered the bathroom she was bitterly disappointed to hear water streaming. She stood there in her comfy shorts and T-shirt, a substitute for real pyjamas and almost threw her towel against the mirror in blatant frustration. Why couldn't she have a tiny, tiny bit of luck? At least with showering? Was that really too much to ask? She hadn't had any luck lately, not with her family, not with men, nor with her living situation (she would kill for a proper bed). Not even in any game they played in the bunker to kill time between two world-saving crazy missions. But no, it seemed she couldn't even have a shower without an obstacle.

Lucy stared at the little R2-D2s on the shower curtain (it was Jyia's choice; once a fan girl, always a fangirl, it seemed) and tried to figure out who had robbed her of her hot shower. But the morning light was too dim to see neither the height nor the shape of that person. Well, the list of the possible candidates was limited but Lucy wasn't in the mood to guess.

She exhaled sharply then slowly and silently turned around to leave. Her hand was already on the door handle when something happened that made her froze in place.

"Lucy…" It was somewhere between a whisper and a moan, barely audible, but Lucy recognized the voice and the accent immediately. How on earth… Flynn couldn't hear her stepping in, nor could he see her through the curtain, so why was he calling her name? Her brow wrinkled as she tried to find an explanation, but as the whispered moan of her name met her ears again, and again, it suddenly hit her. The realization made her blush burgundy, her body running hot and cold at the same time. No, that can't be… Or can it?

Lucy stared at the closed door; her hand trembled on the handle and she tried to process the thought that Garcia Flynn was taking a shower and fantasizing about her while he let out… _steam_. _Come on Lucy, you're not twelve, you can say it in your head._ But Lucy's thoughts danced so wildly that in that moment, for a split second, she even questioned her own name.

 _Lucy. Your name is Lucy_. And Flynn was thinking about her right now. He wasn't thinking of Lorena, a loss he would kill to reverse. He could burn down the world with himself in it to bring her back from the dead, but it wasn't her name leaving his lips. And he wasn't imagining some supermodel or actress … only her, the clever but boring and not at all tempting, Lucy Preston. Although a part of her brain considered that she should be upset that Garcia (because Flynn seemed so impersonal in such an intimate moment) imagined her in whatever scenario he found arousing, it was somehow alluring that he found her attractive enough to be the object of one of his fantasies.

Fantasy? No… there had to be more to it. The way he whispered her name wasn't salacious nor crude. There was longing, and a hint of sadness, in it. There was need in Garcia's voice and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

As she stood there, Lucy felt tears gather in her eyes. Garcia wanted her? Even if it was just for sex, that was more than she could say of anyone lately. There was Wyatt, but Wyatt hadn't been there for her ever since that damned night in Hollywood, which seemed like a different life, a different timeline, now. Wyatt chose Jessica, as they all could very well hear every night. And Lucy couldn't blame him (well, the sophisticated mature part of her couldn't, anyway), but a part of her felt rejected, worthless, useless, lonely and tired. Her mother cared for her as nothing more than a Rittenhouse-heiress and not as a daughter. Carol had no idea what Lucy felt during every single second since she had killed that soldier to prove herself. She was tortured by guilt, by self-loathing and nightmares.  
Amy would have understood her; they could have talked it out over a gallon of ice cream. But there was no Amy now, and in this reality there was nobody she could turn to. No one except… Garcia Flynn.

The tall, mysterious, roguishly good-looking Garcia Flynn. And she would be lying if she said she didn't find him attractive. She would also be lying if said that his little joke the other morning about her being a gentle and responsive lover had no effect on her. Oh, it had. Pictures flashed in front of her eyes, at the most unwelcomed moments during the day where they were doing all sorts of things together. And she liked what she saw. In those flashes, just like in reality, Garcia was there. For her, with her. He wanted her; she wasn't his second choice. Just like he wanted her now, or at least so it seemed. If she took a chance, she could be flush against his tall, solid frame, his strong arms wrapping around her and keeping her safe. Even if for a minute or two.

Lucy suddenly realized how much she wanted to be safe, wanted and loved – and to be first. She was tired, so very tired of running, fighting, thinking, playing the strong, hard and clever one. She longed for a moment of vulnerability, and to just _feel_. It wasn't a need to be inferior, but to be a woman who was desired, who was wanted, and who was loved and protected.

She had no idea when and if such thing would happen to her again. Maybe never. She could die any day on any mission. For once in her life Lucy didn't want to weigh the consequences, to consider anything or anyone. She wanted to listen to her instincts instead of her reason.

Her hands had a will of their own as she locked the door from the inside and then quickly and silently removed her clothing. She walked toward the curtain and as she approached she could already see that Garcia was standing with his back to her.

With trembling hands she pulled away the curtain with the many R2-D2s. She reached out and, slowly, as if he might break or vanish from her touch, her fingertips followed a pale white line down his back, between his shoulder blades. It was one of his many scars.

Garcia tensed at her touch. He looked back at her over his broad shoulders, while the water ran down his face. Their eyes locked and there was shock in his, a little bit of shame, but also such need that Lucy's breath was stolen away. She bit her lip in anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

„Tristo…. Tristo i jedan… Tristo i dva…" But in the next moment, Garcia Flynn groaned angrily in frustration. It didn't matter if did 300 or 302 push-ups this morning or even 500. He knew well it would not lessen his frustration.

He got up panting, sweat covering his naked chest. Circling his tiny room like an angry lion, Flynn raked his hand through his wet hair. He hated that he was confined to this bunker. (Okay, to be fair, it was still better than being in a prison cell.) Hated that he couldn't go for a run or to a proper gym, where he could get rid of all his tension and frustration. No, he was stuck here without anything to do, but wait and see what life-threatening mission came next.

Not to mention the room never felt the same since Lucy and her bottle of vodka had spent the night here three days ago.

Sometimes he wished they wouldn't have consumed the whole bottle of vodka the other night. The sweet oblivion of alcohol could be quite helpful now. He understood Lucy more than he let her know. No wonder she turned to vodka once the thing had got really messy in the bunker. But no… Even that night was a mistake. Garcia Flynn always tried to keep his head clear. He had to be prepared in case those awful sirens would announce that the damned fight against Rittenhouse would continue.

He sat down on his bed but then immediately got up. The fact that Lucy had slept there not long ago didn't help his current mood and feeling of helplessness. He cursed in Croatian and exhaled sharply. _Calm down. Calm down. Calm down like you always do. Go. Take a shower._ Then he would return as the usual pain in the ass, sarcastic, and cold Garcia Flynn everybody hated, but endured because of a shared enemy. Because no one ever should discover his pain, self-loathing and guilt hiding below the surface. NEVER. Especially not Lucy.

Flynn walked in silence to the bathroom, his towel around his shoulders. Once inside, he avoided looking into the mirror, fearing he would shatter) it into a million pieces with his fist. Today the usual dripping sound coming from an old pipe annoyed him more than ever. He shed his pants, scrupulously folded them and left them on the radiator. If anything was keeping him from falling apart, it was probably his need for order.

He glanced at the silly shower curtain with the R2-D2 pattern, shaking his head with a tiny smile. When Rufus suggested it, Flynn bluntly called it a childish nonsense, but it was one of the few things that could put a smile on his face. Long ago, he had been a moviegoer too. Now his own life was like a bad thriller.

He let the water run in the shower. He kept it cold, but not because he wanted to spare hot water for the others. He couldn't care less. He needed to calm down. Shock his senses. Get numb. The freezing water cruelly slashed at his skin like tiny knife blades. He welcomed it. He deserved it. He knew he was a monster. And once you become a monster, there is no coming back. He bit his lips to stop shouting out in frustration. He could blame only himself for the fact that everybody looked at him apprehensively. That they didn't trust him. That Lucy didn't trust him.

Lucy would never look at him as someone to love. They understood each other and that was all. He couldn't blame Wyatt for it, or Noah, or anyone else. Only himself. He had become a cold-blooded killer and he couldn't reverse that.

When he had lost Lorena and Iris, he no longer cared if he lived or died. The only thing that mattered was to bring them back. If that happened, and he'd survived the battle, he planned to disappear and start a new life alone somewhere where nobody knew the unthinkable things he had done. But then he met Lucy and from her he couldn't hide the truth even if he wanted to. And worst of all, although it was never his intention, he had erased from history the one person she loved the most. His actions made her sister Amy disappear. And that was unforgivable.

The water poured over his downcast head, flowing in a river down his back. It covered the scars on his body, but couldn't wash away the scars he had on his soul and conscience.

He laughed out loudly, but it was a bitter sound. He could have punched himself in his own face knowing what a fool he was.

After their shared vodka-night he woken up that morning with a throbbing headache and a sharp pain in his back. He had not planned to sleep in that damned chair. He hadn't planned anything at all. But when Lucy fell asleep on his bed mid-sentence, he hadn't had the heart to wake her. He simply tucked her in a soft and warm blanket and then settled back into his char.

While he waited for Lucy to wake up he watched her dreaming in her sleep, a soft smile playing on her lips, all his pain vanished and he granted himself the luxury of dreaming awake.

His mind wandered to the land of what might have been. What if they had met differently? What if this beautiful, clever, hesitant but brave, fragile but strong badass and witty woman called Lucy Preston could and would choose him?

They would have a much more peaceful, much simpler life. They would see blood only if they accidentally cut themselves while making dinner. And the only death on their consciences would be of the neglected potted flower at their front door. They would both teach at a small college somewhere. Lucy would be a professor of her beloved history history which she wouldn't have to save from anyone. She would just pass on her knowledge and enthusiasm to the next generation. He would be a language instructor.

And, although he could have strangled himself after it, his words about Lucy being a gentle and responsive lover hadn't been merely a joke, but more a slip of the tongue.

It was a memory of how his vision of that peaceful life continued.

He could see the tranquil almost boring mornings when they were having breakfast together, discussing the day ahead of them. They'd both be dressed casually, but smart. He would get up from the table, preparing to leave alone, as Lucy didn't have a class to teach until later in the day.

He would lean down to kiss her goodbye, but she would suddenly grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to deepen that kiss. And before they knew it they would have shed their clothes, hungry to caress, to hold to explore. They would make love right there on the kitchen table, not giving a damn about the plates and glasses they would have to replace as they shattered on the floor. All they cared about was each other, perhaps only stopping for a moment to call in to work sick.

Flynn played the scene out again in his mind, completely losing himself in it. He knew this was the closest he'd ever get to having Lucy. His hand started to move towards his groin, seeking a release that while welcome, would be bittersweet as well. This dream would always just be a dream, no matter how crystal clear he could imagine it. He whispered her name over and over again and the sound was a sad reminder of his unfulfilled wishes.

Then he felt a cautious touch, light as a feather, brush his skin. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn't believe his eyes. What? How? Was this still his fantasy or could it be that Lucy, in the flesh, was standing behind him like a mesmerizing mix of wanton naked goddess and innocence?

His thoughts ran wild as he tried to comprehend what was happening. What was Lucy doing here? Oh, God, how beautiful she was! Oh, shit, how long was she standing there? Does she know what she was interrupting? Damn! He could only imagine what she must be thinking of him. But in her eyes, huge, fixed solely on him, he saw no displeasure or repugnance. Only curiosity, surprise and…desire? Could it be…?

"Lucy… What…? We shouldn't… "He wanted to turn towards her but Lucy stopped him touching his shoulder.

Lucy stepped behind him and snaked her arms around his waist, encircling his body as if she was hugging a tree. She rested her face on his back, enjoying the safety and warmth of his body.

As they were standing there, Garcia rested one palm on the wall and brought the other down to cover Lucy's folded hands. Her trembling, husky voice broke their silence.

" _Garcia_ … Ever since Rittenhouse has appeared in our lives, we constantly do things we don't want to but, nevertheless, do. Couldn't we, just once, do something we shouldn't, but both want to do?"


	3. Chapter 3

Them

" _Garcia_ … Ever since Rittenhouse has appeared in our lives, we constantly do things we don't want to but, nevertheless, do. Couldn't we, just once, do something we shouldn't, but both want to do?"

Hearing the word 'Rittenhouse' hit Garcia Flynn like a physical blow. Hearing it fall from Lucy's lips could have been a real turn off, but then he registered that she had used his first name. Maybe for the first time ever. She was making clear she wanted him. Her voice, her words, they vibrated through his whole body, making him want her even more. Garcia felt her delicate body pressing to his back. He almost groaned out loud, but didn't dare, afraid that would break the spell. He had no idea how he deserved this miracle and hoped no one would wake him from this perfect dream.

Garcia realized Lucy's body was trembling behind him from more than just lust. He could have kicked himself. Why haven't he thought about this sooner? Quickly, he reached for the tap and changed the water temperature from freezing to deliciously hot. In just moments they were surrounded by thick clouds of steam. It was as if they had stepped into a different world, their own, where nobody could reach them, disturb them and hurt them. It wrapped around them like a blanket and even the little R2-D2s on the shower curtain disappeared from view.

Lucy found peace. In that moment as she hugged his solid body she felt safe. Finally. And a part of her wanted to stay like this forever, in the sudden cloud of steam, hugging this tree of a man, feeling his solid body under her trembling fingers. His masculine but somehow comforting smell invaded her nostrils. She wished the world would stop its spinning, before her fears and doubts invaded once again or Garcia decided was a mistake.

Garcia slowly took Lucy's hand and stepped out of her embrace. He faced her and as he looked down at the petite women with the trembling lips, he could just smile. She was beautiful and adorable at the same time. Taking her face between his large hands, Garcia leant down to kiss her. He could almost feel her taste on his lips…when Lucy suddenly bowed her head down, crossed her arms in front of herself and stepped back as much the confined space of the shower stall permitted.

Garcia felt confused and hurt. Lucy had changed her mind. She no longer wanted him. He would never force her to do anything, so if she really wanted out of this he had no other choice than to leave her alone.

Despite that truth, his throbbing member wanted her as much as his pounding heart. Flynn was terrible with words, but he knew he had to say something or he would lose her forever. "Lucy…draga moja". It was easier to use his mother tongue and he could only hope she could guess the meaning of his words. Gently, he reached out, lifting her chin to force her to look at him. "Don't be ashamed and don't be afraid. Nothing will happen that you don't want." Lucy's charming face was cold and tense despite the hot water that streamed down on them. "Ti si lijepa. You are beautiful."

Chuckling bitterly at that, Lucy just shook her head, folding her arms even more tightly around herself.

Garcia could have shaken her in frustration. How can she be so insecure and blind? "Yes, you are beautiful. And smart and funny and strong. Robert Lincoln, Ian Fleming and that bastard Houdini thought the same. You are a remarkable woman… and I cannot deny I want you. I don't have any right to feel this way, I know, but I cannot get you out of my head. I want you so much I feel like I am going mad. But I do not matter. You matter."

Her beautiful eyes glistening with tears, Lucy looked up at him. Her head and insecurities fought with her deep desire for this man, which still wouldn't let her go. Could this be true? Should she risk being hurt again after the fiasco in Hollywood? Should she risk letting him in, in every sense of the word? What if? What if….

But then his raspy voice, thick with need, broke through her thoughts.

"We could forget who we are and what we are, here and now. But if you can't … I won't push you. I won't force you. Just tell me to go and I will leave and we need never speak of this again." Stepping back as much as the small space would allow, his hand reached up to pull back the shower curtain, his eyes never left Lucy's.

Lucy just stared back at him until she finally had to look away, his gaze burning her like hot iron. And then suddenly it hit her: He didn't want out because his desire was gone. He was just putting her feelings first. Again.

"Damn you, Garcia Flynn. Why do you have to be such a gentleman all the time?" she said, her voice trembling and tinged with anger. In the next second, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips on his with such passion it took his breath away. She had almost chickened, but when she looked him in the eyes she could finally see the truth there.

Keeping the connection of their kiss, Garcia turned until his back was against the wall of the shower. Lucy's lips parted, and his tongue found its way to hers. They explored each other's mouth at first gingerly, but then more and more eagerly, their tongues dancing a passionate tango. They knew there was no going back.

Cupping her face with his hands, Flynn tilted her head back a bit to get even better access to her mouth. The sweet strawberry scent of her shampoo wafted up to him from her wet hair. It was more intoxicating than _travarica_ , that delicious and dangerous schnapps he liked so much back home.

He moaned deeply into her mouth as he felt Lucy's hand start to explore his body.

Her feather-like touch wandered along his shoulders, his strong chest, and his belly. Her fingertips followed the path of some tiny water droplets, drawing lines on his skin. Flynn was as muscular and as solid as she imagined he would be.

Her fingers played with his dark chest hair, which was divided from time to time with the rough surface of different scars. Lucy wanted to hear the story behind each one and was also tempted to follow their lines with her lips. Suddenly every thought flew out of her head as Garcia pushed her back gently a bit, bent down his head and his mouth wandered to her breasts, planting kisses on each.

He continued his maddening journey to her nipples, sucking first softly, then hard, occasionally flicking them with his tongue.

Lucy answered with a loud moan and was thankful for the throbbing noise of the water around them and her nails scratched his shoulder softly and she struggled to find any kind of support. There it was… the feeling she searched for. To be safe, to be wanted, to be desired, to be the one lost in this world where just him existed. Although she knew she couldn't get enough of his hand, his tongue, his sounds and Croatian mumblings, she knew they had neither the time nor the willpower to continue like this for long. And no matter how much time they have now, it's already more than they thought possible.

While Garcia returned to her neck nibbling it softly her hand followed her own accord and touched his manhood which was very much alive now. Her touch was almost shy but the way he reacted to it, how he threw his head back moaning her name like prayer, how his breath caught on his throat while he closed his eyes made her braver and her touches and strokes became bolder.

Garcia struggled to stay focused and not let it all go at once. He bit his lips and decided to "repay" Lucy in a fitting way. His long fingers found her soft folds with little trouble. He started to draw circles with his thumb, but then soon enough slid a finger inside her and started a rhythmic movement. For long moments they were pleasuring each other with only their moans and their eyes speaking, telling each other things they themselves couldn't comprehend yet, but they still felt them to be true.

He knew he would go mad if he couldn't get lost in her soon. He hugged her tightly, one hand slid under her butt and lifted her slightly.

Lucy reacted immediately and wrapped her legs around his waist. All her fears were gone, all her doubts, and while she was there in his arms panting and trembling, all she wanted was to be even closer to him and for this ever growing hunger and tension in her body to be gone. She bit her lips and kissed him like she wanted to devour him and signalling him not to wait any longer.

When Garcia entered her they both froze for a second, just staring at each other knowing that nothing would be the same after this.

But then as Garcia started to move inside her, at first thrusting her slowly and gently than more and more vehemently, they forgot everything. Lucy grabbed his shoulder, leaving marks on his back, and Garcia maneuvered again so that her back was by the wall to have some support at least. He lifted Lucy's hand from around his neck to above her head and their fingers intertwined there while thrust followed thrust and their moans became so loud that it felt safer to kiss and muffle them that way. Their breathing and thinking became more erratic and they knew they couldn't hold out any longer…

Suddenly Garcia cursed. "Shit I don't have any…"

But Lucy pressed her lips onto his ear and whispered or rather panted. "I take the pills… don't worry. And I trust you… I want you." He couldn't possibly get any diseases through his journeys and there was no way she would let him go anywhere in this moment.

She sucked on his neck passionately, hoping he still has enough turtlenecks to cover it if she leaves a mark on his skin, and she pressed herself even closer to him if that was possible. She felt that as Garcia's movements became faster and faster, her walls clenched around him more and more. Then she felt something explode within her and the world went black for bit.

Now wonder the French called this _la petite mort_. She died a bit, but then came alive again as she felt how Garcia held her even tighter and then with muted moans, he exploded as well. With light thrusts he prolonged their pleasure a bit longer but then slowly and carefully stood her on the floor.

He still held her in his arms because for one, he felt how much she trembled and for two, he didn't want to let her go. Not yet. Oh, who was he kidding… never. Although he knew they couldn't stay there forever, for now he just enjoyed the aftermath sensations of their lovemaking and the peace as they stood there under the water and in the steam, their arms wrapped around each other, his chin resting on the top of her head. So there still was peace in their crazy and dangerous world.

Lucy stood there with trembling body and trembling heart, her arms wrapped around him. She didn't want to wake up, didn't want to get back to reality. For her it was not just sex, it would have been foolishness to deny it. And although she would never have admitted to Garcia, she felt bereft when they were no longer one together. She had no idea what their future will bring but at least she would have this memory of the steam around them, the throbbing of the water and the heaving of his chest under her face. She quickly wiped away a traitorous teardrop and then looked up in his mysterious eyes.

Without a word he took the sponge in his hand and gently washed Lucy then himself quickly of the traces of their doings. He then turned off the water and took Lucy's hand, leading her out of the cabin and being too well aware that Lucy avoided eye contact. He could only hope she was just embarrassed, not regretting and hating everything already.

Now that that their passion died down Lucy indeed was tense and embarrassed, not really knowing what to say or what to do or…

But then while Flynn gallantly wrapped her in a towel… they both recognised something at the same time and then bursting out in laughter. There were Flynn's neatly folded clothes on the radiator and there was the mess of a pile of Lucy's next to it. It was really like them.

"Why, I guess it just fits to the fact that you never do the washing up and can never find your mobile in the bunker", laughed Garcia and although Lucy elbowed him in the side, she laughed too.

Then Garcia pulled her close again, planting a kiss on the top of her wet hair. "Dress up and sneak out. I will stay behind and make everything look normal, okay? I think we both want this to stay between us. They would kill us if they knew we used all the hot water." he joked again. His little joke was enough to turn the corners of Lucy's mouth up into a smile.

They dressed without another word but without any tension.

Lucy was about to unlock the door when he spoke again. "I didn't regret anything Lucy, on the contrary. If you want to talk about this or about us, my door is always open to you."

Lucy looked at him with a smile then nodded and disappeared through the door.


End file.
